


Bleeding Out

by starkaryen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Play, Dark Will, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulative Will, Power Play, Sub!Hannibal, dom!will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:30:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1541039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkaryen/pseuds/starkaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 times Will bled and one time Hannibal did. Or,</p><p>Will discovers that Hannibal behaves strangely when he bleeds, and he decides to use that to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redkakumei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/gifts).



> * This is the first fanfic -or anything longer than an essay- that I’ve written in English, since it’s not my mother tongue, so if there are any mistakes of any kind regarding the language, I’m really sorry, but keep in mind that it’s the first time I’ve dared to write anything this long and complex.  
> * I wrote this after episode 2x08. The only direct spoiler is from 2x03, but still there are some references and things that you will only understand if you’ve seen all episodes up to 2x08.  
> * In case it’s not clear for someone while reading the fic, this is the structure of the scenes regarding the show: the first scene is set at some point of season 1, the second one is on Baltimore, as you can even see a direct reference of an episode’s scene, and the third one is already post-Baltimore, and it is sort of an “alternative scene” of one from 2x08. The fourth and fifth ones are set somewhere in the future.  
> * Also, I made a fanmix while writing this, because I always need music when I’m writing, and when I’m deeply invested on something I start searching for songs that aren’t just a background, but also that they have a connection with what I’m writing. It started only as a small group of songs and evolved into a full fanmix. You can listen to it [here](http://8tracks.com/starkaryen/bleeding-out), or see the tracklist (the order of the songs is important for the fic) and download it [here](http://starkaryen.tumblr.com/post/83948041172/bleeding-out-will-hannibal-listen-download).

**01. _Baltimore, Maryland. Hannibal Lecter’s Office_**  
  
The first time it happened, it was in one of their therapy sessions. Will was walking between the desk and one of Doctor Lecter’s chairs, while Hannibal himself sat on the opposite one.  
  
“Will?”  
“Yes?”  
“Did you hear my question?” he asked, tilting his head.  
“I’m sorry, Doctor Lecter… I’m afraid I’m not very lucid tonight.”  
“Hard day?”  
“Hard week,” replied Will with a chuckle.  
  
He had stopped in front of the desk, where he saw all sort of things lying on it; multiple drawings, documents, the appointments book… and a paper knife, which he took, not even knowing why. It was sharp and beautifully crafted.  
  
“You haven’t been sleeping well?” the Doctor asked him.  
“Saying _not well_  would be an understatement, I haven’t- ah!”  
  
The scream had been produced by the cut he had made in his finger with the paper knife.  
  
“Damn it.” he exclaimed, while he dropped the knife back in the desk so he could analyze the cut. “It’s  _really_  sharp.”  
  
But before he could even take a good look at his own hand, Hannibal was right beside him. He took a handkerchief out of his suit’s pocket, and without waiting for his permission, the doctor took Will’s hand between his and analyzed the cut with expertise. It was a thin but long red line that started in his index finger and ended in the palm. Will looked at Hannibal while he examined his hand, and he noticed that the doctor had an odd expression; the nose shrunk a little, the lips open and trembling, like he had difficulties to breath.  
  
“It’s… superficial, but it’s going to hurt for a couple of days,” Hannibal said to him recovering his usual calmness, wrapping his hand with the fabric like nothing had happened.  
  
But Will had seen his face, and he knew something had happened, even though he couldn’t identify  _what_ exactly he had seen in the doctor’s eyes.  
When Hannibal returned to his chair and invited him to the other one, he let it go and thought that maybe he had imagined it. Maybe he was even more tired than he thought.

  
  
**02. _Baltimore, Maryland. Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane_**  
  
“Are you going to let his love go to waste?”  
  
The question floated in the room, like a leaf being pulled up and down by the wind.  
He knew the hidden meaning of that question.  
Hannibal knew that he knew.  
Their eyes were fixed on each other, but no one would talk. No one would move.  _Are you going to let his love go to waste?_  
And suddenly, three knocks on the door startled both of them. It was the orderly that stood by the private room’s door, reminding them that their time was ending.  
Will piled up the case papers Hannibal had given him, and right when he was about to give them to him in a rush, he felt a strong pain on his wrist.  
  
“Ouch!” he complained, dropping the papers again in the table and making the chains around his wrists tinkle with the movement.  
  
He saw Hannibal lifting his hand to reach him in an instinctive move, but stopping halfway, remembering that they weren’t supposed to touch.  
  
“You okay?” he asked him.  
  
He nodded, separating the handcuffs from the origin of the pain: a long but thin wound.  
  
“Yes… It’s just these damn things. They move me a lot and they injure me when I have them on for a while.”  
  
Will looked up to Hannibal, and he frowned. He was suddenly changed; his whole body stiff, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on Will’s hand, like he was unable to look away. And then he remembered a very similar situation; a night in Hannibal’s office. Back then he didn’t know who – _what_ \- Hannibal was, so he hadn’t thought about that night again, but there he was; the same rigidness, the lips, the eyes fixated in the injury.  
He began to rotate the hand very slowly, so the wounded wrist faced Hannibal, letting him see little by little the skin being revealed from the shadows… and then the orderly knocked at the door again.  
  
“It’s time!” shouted the man without turning, to preserve the  _privacy_  of the room.  
  
That startled them both again; Will retracted his hand like he had gotten an electric shock, and Hannibal blinked twice while he recovered himself. He cleared his throat and retrieved the papers Will had dropped between them.  
  
“I should be leaving,” he said completely calm now, no sign of the change Will had seen a moment ago, but he knew something had happened. Hannibal rose from his chair, and said: “think about what I said, Will”.  
  
And then he left, leaving Will confused and unsettled.

  
  
**03 _. Baltimore, Maryland. Hannibal Lecter’s house_**  
  
The door opened, revealing Hannibal dressed in a white and blue striped shirt and black pants. Impeccable as always.  
  
“Hello, Doctor.”  
“Will. Please, come in.”  
  
Hannibal opened the door more, moving out of the entrance to allow him to come in. As soon as he did, he felt an icy feeling creeping under his skin. He had been in Hannibal’s house multiple times, but that was different. Now he knew the truth. Now, wherever he looked, he could hear the whispers of the people who had died between those walls.  
  
“May I?” he asked him once he closed the door, offering his hand, and Will looked at it not knowing what he meant. Hannibal smiled a little and pointed at Will’s hands. “The bag. Allow me.”  
“Oh,” he said, remembering the bag he was carrying.  
  
He gave it to Hannibal, and then he followed him to his kitchen.  
  
“I’m glad you and Jack accepted my invitation. I think it will be good for all of us to sit and cleanse the air over a meal. Don’t you agree?”  
  
They entered the kitchen, and Will started devouring everything with his eyes. He saw the fridge, full with meat. The counter, where he probably had cooked every meal when they had eaten at his house… He could see everything now. He saw everything clear.  
  
“Yes… Yes, I agree. And providing the meat myself was the least I could do,” he said, smiling a little.  
  
Hannibal’s eyes shone for a second, and then he smiled too while he put the bag on the counter.  
  
“Thank you, Will. Both for the meat and for offering to help me cook. It’s always nice to have someone accompanying me in the kitchen.”  
“Well, I’ve always been amazed by your cooking skills. I wanted to participate, at least once.”  
  
He let his words sink between them, and then they both smiled at the same time.  
  
“In that case, let’s begin.”  
  
Will had bought pork for the dinner, as a joke that he knew Hannibal had gotten as soon as he unwrapped the meat and a little smirk reached his lips.  
Hannibal assigned to him the task of cleaning and cutting the meat, while he prepared everything else: the baking sheet, the vegetables, and the wine that would go with the meat. And while they did all this, Hannibal had poured them a different wine, one that wasn’t meant to cook, but to drink.  
Once Will had finished cleaning the meat from the fat, he left the knife on the counter to drink again, and looked at Hannibal, who was arranging the vegetables with such care, Will observed him captivated. Hannibal’s back rippled with the expert movements of his hands, with an incredible self-control in every gesture.  
  
“Is it not good?” Hannibal asked, suddenly looking at him. He remembered he had his glass of wine near his mouth, but he had been paralyzed while observing him.  
“Oh, it’s… no, actually it’s really good. I think the best you’ve ever served.”  
“Good. How is the meat going?”  
“Almost ready.”  
  
He drank a sip of wine and left the glass back on the counter, and then he picked the knife again, ready to resume his task. He sliced the meat twice, but in the third, he failed at removing the finger from beneath the knife and suddenly he felt an intense pain.  
  
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, dropping the knife; it made a metal sound when it hit the counter. “Damn it!”  
  
He looked at his hand, and saw that he had made a deep cut in his thumb, which began to bleed right away.  
  
“Careful” Hannibal said, as if he could prevent the cut once it was already made. He approached Will after taking a rag from a drawer, and handed it to him. “Here, press with this, I’m going to get the first-aid kit”  
  
_First-aid kit. Funny_ , he thought. But then he saw Hannibal’s face right before he turned and left the kitchen: tense. And then everything clicked. The time he had cut himself with Hannibal’s paper knife at his office and he looked exactly like that. And when he had visited him at Baltimore, where Hannibal had seen his injury and had gone suddenly rigid. He knew that the possibility that he couldn’t stand the sight of blood was just not possible: he was a doctor, a surgeon, not to mention anything about his extracurricular activities. It was  _his_  blood. He didn’t know why, but Hannibal had behaved that way every time he had bled. Will smiled while pressing the rag to the cut, feeling an adrenaline rush. Now he knew this, and it was leverage for him. He could  _use_  it to his advantage.  
When Hannibal returned to the kitchen, his movements were measured, his body stiff even if he was trying to hide it. He cleared his throat while opening the little briefcase.  
  
“Is it deep?” he asked Will without looking at him.  
  
He shrugged even though Hannibal wasn’t looking.  
  
“I don’t know. You’re the doctor, tell me,” he said, pushing him. He needed to confirm his theory. He needed to look at his face when he saw the cut again.  
  
Will removed the rag from the injury, leaving it unprotected, and moved it closer to Hannibal, who suddenly closed his eyes and pursed his lips.  
  
“You okay, doctor?” he asked very slowly.  
  
Hannibal nodded, inhaling through his mouth, and opened his eyes only to find Will’s hand even closer than before, this time without the rag beneath it. It was only his hand, the cut, the blood; all this before him.  
Will observed how Hannibal fixed his eyes on his finger; he opened his lips to gasp and then swallowed saliva, making his Adam’s apple go up and down on his throat.  
  
“Everything okay, Hannibal?” he asked again, trying to contain himself from grinning. He could feel the rush of knowing he had Hannibal Lecter under his control; in that precise moment, he had the power.  
  
He took a step closer to him, moving his finger even closer to Hannibal’s face. Will could see that he was restraining himself.  
Hannibal finally moved, lifting his arm and holding Will’s wrist, where he felt his long fingers touching his bare skin. He took his hand delicately, and started to bring it closer to his face, but stopped when the lips were about to touch the bloody skin. Will realized that Hannibal was looking at him now, his eyes fixed on his, and he suddenly looked…  _scared_. It was like he had noticed that Will was standing there for the first time. Like he had completely forgotten about his presence.  
And then, the doorbell rang and the sound made Hannibal drop his hand and jump backwards. He collided with the counter and hit Will’s glass of wine with his elbow, which fell to the floor and crashed with a loud sound. The wine spread in the before spotless floor, and Will felt his chest moving at the pace of his rapid breaths when he finally blinked and looked away from the glass. The doorbell rang again, and he threw the rag he had been holding to the counter.  
  
“I’ll get the door,” he said, trying to sound as normal as he could. But on the inside, he was shaking.  
  
When he got to the door and greeted Jack, he tried to smile even though he felt his lips trembling.  
  
 “I brought a bottle of wine,” Jack said, showing it to him. “I’m sure Doctor Lecter has plenty, but I always come with my hands empty, so…”  
“Wine, good. It’s perfect, we were running out of it.”  
  
  
  
**04. _Baltimore, Maryland. Hannibal Lecter’s Office_**  
  
The door of the office opened, and Hannibal appeared behind it, reminding him of a week back, when the same scene had repeated at the door of Hannibal’s house.  _That_  day.  
  
“Will. I’m glad you’re here. Come in.”  
  
He nodded, and stepped in. They hadn’t seen each other since the blood-related incident, and Will assumed he was playing the same game he had played after every other incident: not talking about it. So he did the same, smiling politely at him when he went inside. Hannibal immediately offered him a beverage, but he declined with a smile and shaking his head. He had a plan. And he was going to go through with it.  
He left his jacket on his usual chair, and started to wander around the room, observing every paint and decoration, stopping before the statue of the stag that he knew so well.  
  
“You like it?” Hannibal asked him, suddenly very close to him. Will tilted his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t turn.  
“Yes. It’s… very dark,” he replied, leaving the statue and walking away from him.  
  
He saw Hannibal sitting down at his usual chair, and he went to the desk, where he observed Hannibal’s drawings and tools. He located what he was looking for, and picked it up with a smirk on his lips.  
  
“So, what would you like to discuss to- Will?” he asked him, frowning.  
  
He had turned to face him, with the paper knife on his hand. The same paper knife that some time before had produced him the cut; the first cut where he noticed Hannibal’s issue with his blood, even though he didn’t know it then.  
  
“Be careful, last time you took that it didn’t go very well,” he warned him, apparently calm. But Will had learned to recognize the vague tone under that. The tone that told him he was already picturing his blood. That he was already restraining himself.  
“I’m going to be very careful, doctor,” he assured to him, while playing with the blade, resting the point on his finger and starting to roll it.  
“Will, you’re going to cut yourself again,” he warned him, more urgently.  
“Oh, I know.”  
  
Hannibal frowned and Will’s smile widened on his lips at the same time that he stopped playing with it and rotated the hand, placing the blade on the external part of the back of his hand. He looked at Hannibal’s eyes one more time, which were focused on the knife, and he saw a mix of confusion and desire on them. And then he pressed the sharp blade against his skin. Will clenched his teeth because of the pain and left the blade on the desk while the blood started to flow. His heart was racing and he felt like his chest was about to explode, but he didn’t lose control.  
The blood was flowing down his hand, and rapidly, it reached his wrist, starting to soak his shirt, but he didn’t care. Hannibal’s face was suddenly stiff, his whole body rigid. His knuckles were turning white because he was a holding the chair like he was about to fall, and that made his heart go faster.  _I am in control_ , he thought.  
  
“Is this what you want…?” he whispered to Hannibal, letting the words fall out of his mouth like thick honey.  
  
Hannibal’s eyes focused then on him instead of the blood for the first time since he had started bleeding.  _Yes, look at me_ , he thought. Will moved his hand closer to his mouth, and very slowly, he started licking the blood. He undid with his tongue the path the blood had made running down his hand, and when he reached the cut, he licked it too, even though it hurt. He  _was_  in control.  
When he finished, he dedicated an intense look to Hannibal, who was very still on his seat. But then, everything changed in a second. Hannibal rose from the chair in a quick, sudden movement, and before Will could blink, he was all over him. Hannibal's fingers tangled in his hair, Hannibal's leg between his own, Hannibal's whole body pressed over his, pushing him against the desk, and his other hand grabbing his own, the one with the cut...  
Hannibal made him bend his head backwards pulling his hair in an abrupt movement, and then he was even more over him, so close there was no space between them. He felt Hannibal sniffing his neck, ascending slowly until they were at the same height. Their eyes met, and he recognized the look; they were the eyes of a predator. But strangely, that didn't scare him. That didn't wake up his surviving instinct, the one who should be screaming inside him, urging him to run away. Instead, he could only feel the touch of Hannibal’s fingers on the back of his head, his thigh pressing between his legs, the edge of the desk holding him from falling... And then Will lost all control he had had.  
Hannibal brought his wounded hand closer to him and, maintaining eye contact, he stuck his tongue out of his mouth and, imitating what he had done seconds ago, he licked the blood that had flowed again from the wrist up to the cut. He took his time in every inch of skin, and when he reached the cut, he sucked the blood directly from it, which was painful, but he didn’t care. When he left the hand and approached him, he felt his heart pounding against his chest, and then Hannibal stuck out his tongue again and, very delicately, he licked Will’s lower lip, as if he was making sure no drop of blood was overlooked.   
And then Hannibal moved forward and the only thing he could feel were his lips. Urgently moving lips, both Hannibal's and his, touching and covering everything, starving from one another, thirsty from their touch, like animals that had been caged for too long and now they were free to run, to hunt, to  _feel_. When Hannibal broke the contact, as abruptly as it had started, they both stayed still in that position for what it felt like minutes, looking into each other’s eyes and breathing heavily with their lips red from the contact and the blood.  
Suddenly, Will’s brain rebooted and he pushed Hannibal with his free hand -he had maintained his grip on his wounded hand all the time-, liberating himself from the cage Hannibal had created between him and the desk.  
"I have to go," he said, disoriented.  
"Will..." Hannibal started to say, his expression completely changed now, no trace of the predator he had seen seconds ago. But he didn't let him talk.  
"I  _have_ to go," he repeated, as if Hannibal hadn’t heard him.  
He stumbled towards the chair where he had left his jacket, grabbed it and rushed to the door without looking at him.  
"Will!" he heard him yelling at him, but he didn't listen. He didn't turn.  
Once he was outside the building, he stopped and rested against a wall. His head was spinning really fast, and he felt as if he were about to faint. He didn't know how he had ended up in that situation. How he had gotten to that point, how Hannibal had made him lose control so quickly, when he thought  _he_  was in control...  
He licked his lips and tasted the mix of blood and Hannibal in his mouth, and moved at last, starting to walk down the street.  
  
  
  
**05. _Wolf Trap, Virginia. Will Graham’s house_**  
  
He was staring at the floor when the microwave beeped. Will blinked and raised from the chair to take the coffee out, which he took to the table. And when he was about to sit, the doorbell rang and the dogs started barking together like the pack they were. Will frowned, wondering who could be. And given that the dogs hadn’t barked at the sound of a car, only at the doorbell, he supposed it had to be someone he knew; someone the  _dogs_  knew.  
  
“Shush,” he said to them, pointing his index finger to them. That automatically silenced them, with the exception of a whine or two, and he smiled pleased. “Good boys.”  
  
Once the dogs were controlled, he went to the door, and he opened it with no hurry on his movements. Outside, Hannibal turned to face him, and Will stopped with the hand on the doorknob. He was out of the porch, a few steps away from the door and himself. Some of the dogs went out to greet the new guest, but Will didn’t worry; they never went far away.  
  
“Will. I’m sorry for turning up without any warning, but I didn’t know what else to do,” he started saying. When Will didn’t say anything, he continued. “You weren’t answering your phone…”  
“I know,” he interrupted him.  
“…And you didn’t come to our last appointment. I just wanted to make sure you were fine.”  
“You saw Jack three days ago, so you knew I was okay,” he said with no delicacy. “And you know why I didn’t go to our last appointment.”  
  
Will had spent days and days thinking about that last time he had seen Hannibal. He had had time to clear up his own thoughts, and even though he couldn’t make sense of everything, now he was done with pretending nothing was going on.  
  
“Yes… I can imagine.” Hannibal suddenly closed his eyes and sighed, and that surprised Will. He looked  _unsettled_. “The real reason I came here was… I wanted to apologize, Will.” He raised an eyebrow, not expecting that at all. “I wanted to say that I’m deeply sorry for what happened the other day at my office. I… can’t excuse my behavior in any way. It was incredibly inconsiderate and rude on my behalf.”  
  
That almost made Will drop his jaw, but he controlled himself. Hannibal had just apologized for having kissed him wildly after he himself had tried to play him and push his limits until he had broken...  
  
“Okay…” he said, not knowing what else to say. “Come in, I made coffee.”  
  
He didn’t wait for Hannibal’s response and he went inside the house, leaving the door open. Once on the inside, he whistled and one by one the dogs that had gone out returned. He went to the kitchen and started preparing another cup of coffee, and shortly, he heard the door closing.  
  
“I wouldn’t want to intrude, Will. I just wanted to come to apologize.” Hannibal said from behind him. And from the force of the voice, he knew he hadn’t come into the kitchen. Will smiled; he was maintaining a safe distance.  
“You already apologized, Hannibal, it’s… okay.” He assured him, turning to face him and resting on the counter.  
  
Hannibal took a step closer to the kitchen, but he was still distanced from him.  
  
“Yes, but… You must know. It will  _never_  happen again.”  
  
Will hold his stare for a while, and then he smiled, looking at the floor for a second.  
  
“Well, Hannibal… that’s where you’re wrong.” He looked up again, directly into Hannibal’s eyes. “It  _will_  happen again. Just not the same way.”  
  
He turned again and started opening the drawers, searching for something.  
  
“What… do you mean?” Hannibal asked him, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he found what he was looking for and turned again with it on his hand. “Will… don’t do that again.”  
“Oh, no… I’m not going to cut myself again,” he explained, spinning the thin knife on his hand. “I want  _you_  to bleed, Doctor Lecter.”  
  
He started going toward him, and Hannibal stood still, with his jacket hanging on one of his arms, and the confusion taking over his expression.  
  
“I thought you said you didn’t want to kill me anymore,” he said, and Will thought he sounded hurt.  
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on killing you.”  
  
He finally reached Hannibal, and looked him up and down, taking his time, making him wait for what was to come.  
  
“Well, saying you want to see someone bleed and approaching them with a knife is easy to misinterpret,” he said with a trace of irony on his voice.  
“What is it, you don’t trust me, Hannibal?”  
“Let’s say I do. Do  _you_  trust me?”  
  
Will smiled again, and pressed his lips together.  
  
“Let’s say I _don’t_  entirely trust you,” he said, and then he moved closer to him, and whispered, “To my bedroom. Now.”  
  
Hannibal seemed to consider the proposition for a few seconds, but finally he moved toward the bedroom. Will followed him from behind, seeing the impeccable suit adjusting to Hannibal’s movements while he walked. When they entered the bedroom, he closed the door behind him, so the dogs wouldn’t intrude. Hannibal turned to face him, and he had an expression Will couldn’t identify.  
  
“Will… are you sure about this?”  
“Oh, I’m sure. I know I haven’t misinterpreted the signs, I know it’s not the threat of the knife what’s dragged you here,” he said, thinking that maybe,  _maybe_ , he hadn’t interpret them right.  
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, and then Will knew what it was he couldn’t identify; he was  _worried_. Worried  _for_  him, not because of him.  
“I  _need_  this, Hannibal,” he assured him, and then he chuckled. “It’s  _my_  turn to have the control,” he almost yelled, but he recovered quickly. ”Now, take off the vest.”  
  
Hannibal smiled and nodded at him, and then he left the jacket beside him, on the chair that was next to a wall. Besides the chair, Will’s bedroom was full of the dog’s beds on one side, and his bed and a nightstand on the other. Hannibal started unbuttoning his vest and when he took it off he placed it next to the jacket. Then, he started doing the same with his shirt, but Will stopped him.  
  
“No, no, no…  _that_  is for me,” he explained, and then he nodded toward the bed, and he understood it.  
  
Hannibal went to the bed, and he looked again at him.  
  
“If you’re not entirely sure about this…” he started saying, but he didn’t let him finish.  
  
Will leapt toward him, and suddenly the knife was pressed against Hannibal’s neck. Not enough to harm him, but enough for him to feel the cold blade against his skin.  
  
“Shut up and sit,” he commanded in an authoritarian voice.  
  
Hannibal obeyed and sat on the edge of the bed, both hands pressed against the mattress, and the knife still very close to his skin. Will climbed on the bed with only one knee, that he rested next to Hannibal’s thigh, and he put the free hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. Will approached to his face and whispered close to his ear:  
  
“It’s everything about control, isn’t it, Hannibal?” Will asked with a smile upon his face.  
  
He felt Hannibal shivering next to him, and when he straightened, he grabbed both sides of his shirt and yanked to rip it. The buttons flied to all directions, and Will looked at him to see his reaction, but Hannibal stood still, looking back at him. After that, he pulled the shirt out of his arms, not touching his skin once, on purpose.  
  
“I  _am_ in control,” he said once he threw the shirt to the floor, more to himself than to him, while he pushed Hannibal, making him lie back on the mattress.  
“You are,” he said.  
  
Will smirked and lifted the other knee, sitting astride on top of Hannibal, and feeling a rush of pleasure when he felt his erection against his. He made a path with the free hand from his shoulder to his chest and ended on his stomach. But there was something still missing, and he bent over a little to speak to him, while he placed the flat side of the knife carefully on his cheek.  
  
“I want you to put your hands over your head,” he told him.  
  
Hannibal hold his gaze while, very slowly, he raised his hands over his head. He grabbed with one hand his other wrist, and left them there.  
Will had not expected Hannibal to be so submissive, to obey him like he was doing, and knowing that he was restraining himself  _for_  him made his heart go faster, made him get harder than he already was.  
  
“Will you bleed for me?” he asked him, while he moved the knife to his torso.  
“Yes,” he answered.  
  
He smiled and then made a thin cut on the skin of the ribs. Hannibal clenched his teeth and fisted his hand at the contact with the blade, but apart from that he didn’t move. Will bent over him and observed the single drop of blood flowing down his ribcage. He caught it with his tongue and the moment he touched Hannibal’s skin he felt infinite, powerful. He licked the blood off the cut, and then he moved upward and stopped right before his lips, like he was about to kiss him. He stood right above his lips for a few seconds, looking at him, letting him know that it was going to be  _his_  way. Their breaths merged in the little space that was left between their lips. But he never touched him, and Hannibal stood still, breathing heavily and not breaking eye contact at any moment, and so Will smiled pleased.  
The next spot he went to was his bicep, where he made another cut and licked it too.  
  
“What is it what makes you lose control, Hannibal? Is it the blood? The injuries?” he asked him while he made a new cut a little above the hips.  
“Maybe it’s just you,” he answered, and that that made him stop right before he was about to lick the blood.  _Maybe it’s just you_ , Will heard his voice echoing in his mind. He had never thought that it could be  _him_ , specifically. Not the blood, not the wounds. Him.  
  
When he descended to the cut, he introduced both thumbs in the upper part of his pants, which made Hannibal gasp a little, and lowered them a couple of inches. After that, he licked not only the cut, but also the hipbones, leaving a trail of saliva on his skin. He heard Hannibal moan, and that turned him on even more.  
He straightened again, and with that movement, he pressed on Hannibal’s erection with his own, feeling a jolt of electricity travelling through his whole body. He looked him in the eye again, and reached his hair with the free hand, which he took in a fist and pulled, making him bend his head leaving his neck and throat completely exposed.  
  
“I could kill you right now, if I wanted. I could,” he said in a gasp.  
“I know,” Hannibal said, no trace of fear or pain or anything. Just a statement, letting him know that he was putting his own life in Will’s hands, and he was okay with it.  
  
When he let go of his hair, he made him a new cut on his collarbone. He had left the best for last, and he put the knife on his nightstand before putting his fingers around Hannibal’s neck, caressing his skin, pressing a little above the carotid, and descending again. He felt his breath hitting his skin, and stick his tongue out of his mouth slowly. He licked the blood of the cut at the same time that he moved his hips against Hannibal’s. He was so tense he thought he was going to break in half, but every time he rubbed against him, it felt liberating, his body releasing everything he had been holding back for so long.  
He drew a line of saliva from the collarbone cut ascending through his neck and ending on his jaw, where he bit him. Hannibal was breathing open-mouthed, and when he thrust him again, he moaned with pleasure and that fired him up even more.  
Will rested his forehead on Hannibal’s shoulder and started moving rhythmically. He was touching every inch of Hannibal’s skin with his fingers -his chest, his ribs, his face, his arms, still immobilized over his head- while he pressed with his hips, on and on and on. He was a fire, so hot he feared he was going to burst into flames, and he heard himself moaning, louder and louder, while Hannibal emitted guttural sounds. In that moment they were one, merged by skin, sweat and breaths and the touch of one against the other.  
  
 “Will,” Hannibal said then with his voice raw, which made him go faster.  
  
He exploded in a million of feelings, sparks spreading through every inch of his body and making him tremble. He collapsed onto Hannibal’s chest, breathing heavily and feeling Hannibal’s heartbeats on his cheek.  
When he could move, he rolled over and fell onto the mattress, facing the celling, still trying to recover his breath. He looked at Hannibal, who hadn’t moved at all and was still gasping too.  
  
 “You can move now,” he whispered, and Hannibal looked back at him.  
  
Will saw him moving his arms for the first time since he had told him to put them over his head, and he lowered only one of them, leaving the other beneath him to rest his head on his hand when he rolled over his side and stayed like that, looking at him. A few locks of his hair fell over his forehead, which threw shadows at his face and made him look younger. Will had to stop the impulse of lifting his hand and stroking his hair.  
  
“You have done everything I’ve asked… Why?” he asked him.  
“You needed this. I _wanted_  this,” he answered simply, still not moving.  
  
Will observed him for a few seconds, trying to find any sign that told him that he was trying to trick him, but he didn’t find any.  
  
 “You can touch me now,” he told him then, as if it was an obvious thing but he still wanted to say it out loud. It was him giving Hannibal his consent.  
  
Hannibal lifted his hand, and Will thought he was then going to make everything he had done to him. Maybe he would cut him, too. Maybe he wouldn’t stop like he had. But when Hannibal finally touched him, he chose his face, caressing his cheek so carefully, like he was a fragile object.  
  
“Do you feel better now?” he asked him, with affection in his voice.  
“Yes…” he answered, not understanding what he was doing. “Much better.”  
  
Hannibal smiled and bent over him to kiss him on his other cheek. Will felt his heart going faster again when he felt his touch. He had expected Hannibal to take control once he could move, but he was so perfectly calm… After the cheek, he moved over to his eyelid and kissed him when Will closed his eyes. And the next thing was his forehead. And his jaw, and his chin, and next to his nose… but never the lips.  
Hannibal then took his hand and observed his palm. Will hadn’t realized, but he had cut himself at some point while he was handling the knife. The cuts were small and thin, yet he thought that that would be when Hannibal would take over… But again he brought the hand closer to his mouth, and kissed him on top of every cut. No licking, no forcing him, no taking control…  
  
“Why are you doing this? You did everything I asked… You can  _touch_  me,” he said again, emphasizing the word in case he hadn’t understood.  
“I know. But this is all I want right now. This is all I need,” he answered, and Will didn’t find anything in his voice but honesty.  
  
He felt suddenly so immensely grateful, he felt his heart expanding on his chest twice his normal size. And then he understood that Hannibal was actually in control. By choosing to stay still, to do everything he had asked, and now to not kiss him on the mouth, as if he feared Will would be intimidated again by that. The last time, Hannibal had lost all his control and he had made  _him_  lose control too. But now both of them were in control, both of them had power over one another, and over themselves… and he decided that  _that_  was what he wanted. He didn’t want to control Hannibal, and he wasn’t going to let him control him anymore. But that felt…  _right_.  
Will moved his hand to Hannibal’s cheek like he had done, and then he put his fingers between his hair, and moved his head toward him. He felt his skin touching Hannibal’s, their foreheads joined, their noses touching…  
  
“Thank you,” he whispered against him.  
  
And then he kissed him, and it felt like floating. It was nothing like the first kiss, because now they both were in control. He moved his lips at Hannibal’s rhythm, up and down and going further when he felt his tongue searching for his own. He lost and found himself in his lips, and when they broke the contact, he looked at him and, for the first time in a long time, he rested his forehead on Hannibal’s shoulder and smiled. A true, pure smile, with no intentions or hidden meanings.

**_The End._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, as I've said, this fic is for [redkakumei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/), because without her, this fic simply wouldn’t exist. This first started with me searching for a fanfic that had certain things I wanted to read after THE episode (2x08), but I couldn’t find any that fully satisfied me. Still, I didn’t want to write it myself, because I found tremendously difficult to write about: a) this tv show in general, b) Hannibal and Will, such complex characters, specially interacting, and c) about the issues I wanted this fic to have, being pretty complicated, and I didn’t know if I had it in me to capture what I really wanted to tell.  
> And then, [redkakumei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/) appeared and acted like a true Hannibal to me (I am Will in this relationship) -in the sense of manipulation, not the eating-people issue-. So, together we started discussing a lot of things we wanted this to have, and she started pushing me so I would write this (I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of her using light therapy to induce me to write it). After a VERY intense week of writing, discussing more ideas, showing her what I had, and then repeating the cycle, finally this is what was born out of that Hannibal’s episode and our own ideas and thoughts. She endured all my questions, my ideas, she gave me a lot of the ideas that that are now written here, and in the end, she was a wonderful beta reader.  
> So even though this fic has been physically written by me, as in, me typing the keys of the computer, the truth is, this was written by both she and I.
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, if you're reading this, it means that you've read the whole fic, so thank you. Really :)
> 
> \----
> 
> All information + links about my writing are [here](https://about.me/mizumohno).
> 
> Say hello to me @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/mizumohno) and [tumblr](http://starkaryen.tumblr.com/) :)


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